


Apocatastasis

by Geekyalbatross



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:21:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geekyalbatross/pseuds/Geekyalbatross
Summary: My own fleshed out post 15x18 events, possibly leading into a longer narrative with a fix-it ending.  Just getting back into writing fanfic, figured the place to start would be where my emotional turmoil is centered - the Dean/Cas confession scene.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 9





	Apocatastasis

Dean sat stunned on the concrete floor, his watery eyes darting around the empty room, the silence of it weighing on him.

Cas.

Cas had just been here - Death had been beating on the door, coming for them - there had been no way out. There was adrenaline, desperation, disbelief. There had to be a way out - there was always a way out.

Cas.

The Empty had come, dark and heavy, and so, so fast. There wasn’t time for words, there wasn’t time - 

Cas.

Dean put both hands to his head, felt himself crying, his eyes glanced once more around the room and then shut with a wince. He pushed his hands through his hair and sobbed. 

Cas.

Distantly, he heard the buzzing of his cell phone. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, taking deep, shaky breaths, trying to sort through what just happened. At some point the buzzing stopped. 

Cas was gone. And this time, it felt so much worse than the other times he thought he’d lost him. This felt like a deep pit in his stomach - this felt like forever.

Dean sniffled, put his hand up to his eyes and wiped his face. He took a deep breath. Shakily, he got himself up off the floor, wiping his hands on his jeans as he stood. To the empty room he shook his head and said, “Stupid son of a bitch.” His lip quivered and he looked down at the floor. He bent down to grab the cell phone, glanced at the screen: 6 missed calls from Sam. 

He’d have to tell Sam and Jack. He’d have to say the words out loud. 

He walked towards the broken door at the far end of the room and paused just before walking through - he shut his eyes tight and then shook his head, took the step through the door frame and made his way through the corridors of the bunker. He didn’t look back.  
‘  
He found himself in the kitchen, pouring a familiar glass of whiskey. The shaking in his hand was hardly noticeable as he put the glass to his lips and tipped his head back, drinking most of it in one swig. He put the glass down, looked at it, then drank the rest. He waited a moment and then poured another. He drank that one too. “Okay.” he said aloud. He poured another, held the glass and put his back against the countertop, looking at the kitchen table but not really seeing it. He idly shook the glass so the whiskey swirled in a lazy circle. He took a sip and exhaled with a hiss. 

Grabbing the bottle with his other hand he walked towards his room, leaving the door open once inside and plopping down on the bed, finishing the whiskey and slamming the glass down onto the nightstand. He held the bottle between his legs, leaned over, looking down at his hands.

“Stupid son of a bitch.” he said again. 

He couldn’t wrap his head around what had happened. Not just the loss but the words. No, not just words - a confession. He let out a deep shaky breath. 

His phone buzzed again, startling him. He reached into his pocket, pulled it out, sighed. He put it to his ear. 

“Sam,” he said, voice flat and controlled.

“Dean, thank god. I’ve been trying you for almost an hour. I thought - well I wasn’t sure what to think. Please tell me you’ve got Death on a leash.”

Dean tried to speak, but just managed to shift his jaw before finding the words, “Sam, it’s - it’s Cas.” There was silence on the other end. His voice finally betrayed the emotions searing through him, breaking, shaky. “Sam, Cas is gone. And I mean Gone, gone.”

He could hear Sam’s breath catch on the other end of the line. A moment of just silence lingered between them. Finally, Sam spoke. “Dean, I…” Dean signed. Sam continued, “Dean, are you sure there isn’t -”

Dean stopped him there. “Sam I just know. I saw it happen right in front of me. The Empty it just...it came for him and it just...took him. It was waiting to take him, this whole time.” His voice caught in his throat and he stifled a sob. “Sam Cas is gone. He’s really gone.”

A few more moments of silence passed between them. Sam spoke first. “What do you…” he cleared his throat and Dean heard him sniffle. “What do you need right now?”

Dean put his fingers to his forehead, closed his eyes and shook his head lightly. “I don’t know, Sam.”

Sam coughed. Then, “Well listen...me and Jack...we’ll come back to the bunker. But Dean, there’s something going on. There’s...there’s nobody out here.”

Dean lifted his head up. “What do you mean?”  
Same paused. “Dean, I mean...everybody’s gone. Chuck must have...I don’t know for sure but,” He paused, Dean thought he could hear Jack saying something in the background. “Dean, it’s Chuck. And it’s bad.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “Just get back here.” he said gruffly, and hung up the phone.

For the next few minutes he sat on the edge of his bed, motionless, just breathing and holding the half empty bottle of whiskey tight. The next thing he knew he was on his feet and the bottle was smashing against the wall, the smell of alcohol hitting his nostrils and the sound of the glass breaking shattering something awake inside of him, and he was roaring - he could hear the animalistic sound coming from his mouth but didn’t recognize his own voice. He turned and smashed the lamp next to his bed. He grabbed at his hair and turned to the bedroom door and before he knew it he was bloody and his knuckles were smashing at the metal over and over and over. 

Finally he sunk down to the floor and sat there, staring dumbly at the floor. 

Cas.


End file.
